Perfection

All an illusion

All is right, no curl misplaced,
white-gloved hands and painted face.
Posture, poise and propriety’s charm,
slender leg and elegant arm.

Perfection’s image near unseen wall,
feminine grace in living doll.
Each breath a quiet statement made-
but beauty’s fleeting and flowers fade.

Attempts to keep the world in check
forms iron shackle round the neck.
Not ours to make this life secure
by wit, control, or gaze demure.

Inward struggle shows no sign
of anxious planning, stressful time.
All that’s seen is flawless pawn 
with plastered smile and boundaries drawn.

Lying fate to lure the being
who believes perfection’s worth not seeing.
Now stands this figure, flawless- fair,
with none to notice… lonely air. 

Author's Note

For more of my writings please visit my website at www.cassieweller.com